


when his prince pulled up (a white pick-up truck)

by midrashic



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-01
Updated: 2010-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23163406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midrashic/pseuds/midrashic
Summary: He left the suds in the bucket and the clothes hanging out on the line.
Relationships: Sam Evans/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	when his prince pulled up (a white pick-up truck)

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time, I did 25% of a _Glee_ "Ten Songs" meme. This is Sara Evans's "Suds in the Bucket."

When he was six (oh, fuck, when he was _sixteen_ ) Kurt’s picture-perfect wedding went a little like this: the hall is sweeping, grandiose, it changes from time to time depending on whether or not he’s in love with the idea of a traditional venue, in a grand, stone, lovely cathedral (or gothic arches and curves, or an outdoor wedding, with a spread of oak trees all over and sunlight shifting on the ground), or a modern venue, with cool planes of glass for a ceiling that cast the morning sunlight all over the floor. There are flowers – calla lilies, hints of peaches and cream, _nothing_ pink (a mental shudder accompanies this, every time), he toys with the idea of color schemes, thinks of a groom in navy blue and a suit in pale peach for himself, but knows he wants white and black, even if white washes him out terribly. And of course it would take a year and a half to plan, and Kurt would insist on doing it himself. It had to be perfect, after all. And some part of him (some part of him, the tiny part that thinks that _being able to get married_ is perfect in itself) is convinced it will be.

When Kurt is seventeen, he meets Sam Evans, and he stops thinking about getting married in a glass castle.

(He doesn’t stop thinking about the perfect wedding.)

When Kurt is nineteen, he kidnaps himself. There is no other word for it – he takes the Nav and two thousand dollars and leaves a note on his dad and Carole’s nightstand, hopes to a god he doesn’t believe in that Carole finds it first and figures out a way to break it gently to Dad. He feels reckless, not-quite-sane, flying high on his own freedom, his graduation, the scent of jasmine on the air, and being in love – he drives almost-too-fast, his insides are light and so weightless they could pull him into the sky (it’s like riding a hot air balloon into space, that nonsensical, that impossible, that undeniably, unmistakably _real_ ). He pulls up outside 251 Crozar Street, catches the dark contrast of Sam’s roots with his bottle-blond hair past the fence, and just leans against the steering wheel for a while, watching the movement of Sam’s fingers as he folds laundry outside of his house.

When he is nineteen, he watches and _wants_ and _is_ in a wonderfully timeless, photographic moment. And this is what happens:

“Sam,” Kurt calls, through his half-open window.

Sam looks up and laughs, surprised, breathless. He’s down the steps in half a moment, unbolts the gate and catches Kurt in an embrace the minute he throws open the car door. 

Sam is so close, his breath in Kurt’s ear, his smile in the curve of his shoulder, his eyes bright and blue and so, so real. He pulls back. “Are you here like a wild-west villain? Going to kidnap me and tie me to the train tracks?”

“You’re already on the train tracks,” Kurt tells him. Smiles into his hair. “I’m your white knight, of course.”

Sam laughs. “We’re gonna run away from here and live like nothing else is worth living for?”

“Something like that,” Kurt murmurs. “Let’s go get married.”

Sam stops.

“Sam,” Kurt says, “Despite what the look on your face suggests, that was a serious suggestion.”

“I – holy _fuck_ – are you proposing to me-?”

“Well, yes,” Kurt says, “though not to be joined in holy matrimony, which will break your grandmother’s heart, I expect.”

Their fingers tangle together, and Kurt presses forward, leans their foreheads together, and his voice softens, intensifies. “But I meant what I said about marriage. Because-” he stops, struggles for words. “It would be too simple to just say ‘because,’ wouldn’t it?”

“I – Kurt-” Sam runs a hand through his hair, laughs bewilderedly. The ends of his hair glimmer in the heat. (Kurt tracks his every motion with a kind of slow-burning hunger, the kind that reaches up from inside of you, sneaks up on you, the kind that isn’t constant craving but something that feels quite a bit like pining, if he can remember what that feels like.) “Kurt, this is crazy.”

“Don’t think too hard about it.”

Kurt leans over and kisses him. There is a long, surprised moment when the afternoon is a haze of sun and a warm, soft mouth against his, and the sky painted orange like something out of a fairytale.

Sam draws back, a lazy, aching grin on his face. “But what if we-”

“Sam,” Kurt says, “I love you. So much. Stop talking.”

(There is a moment – like everything hangs suspended – where Sam glances back at the pile of laundry on the porch and the gray-wooden slats of the deck chair and the one loose tile on his roof, and Kurt _wants_ , wants so badly, he wants to be stupid and not think, he wants to _not fucking care_ that he should be more responsible than this, needs to be more responsible than this, and Sam is so, so lovely, so lovely it hurts, framed with sunlight like the All-American boy that shouldn’t be running off with his gay lover-)

Sam turns around, and the smile on his face makes all the breath stop in Kurt’s throat.

When Kurt is nineteen, he rides off into the sunset in a 2010 Navigator with a perfect wedding tucked into the seat next to him, and they get married in Vegas and it is ridiculous and cheesy and a little bit drunk, and somehow, Kurt can’t find it in himself to care. (He does end up wearing the black suit, though, and the wedding pictures - on the steps of a church they didn’t even set foot in – turn out absolutely gorgeous.) 


End file.
